How Can I Keep From Singing

No storm can shake my in-most calm
While to that rock I'm clinging.
Since Love is Lord of heaven and earth,
How can I keep from singing?

When my dad died, there were a bunch of priests and a couple of cardinals - like 20 or something. There were hundreds of cars in the procession. He actually wanted to be a priest but was diabetic and therefore rejected, but went on to a different calling. My parents are ultra-Catholic. They also focused intensely throughout their lives on working toward social justice. Because both my parents were in essence academics/intellectuals, the people they had over for dinner talked politics, religion, economics, what have you. It was people with PhDs and... well, suffice to say, intelligent people, and they were of many different colors, of many different nationalities. It wasn't until college that I realized people associated certain characteristics or attributes with certain skin colors. It wasn't until law school that I felt identified or classified or categorized because of my skin color (my dad, lily white of Swedish and German heritage, married my mom, a Hispanic woman).

My life flows on in endless song
Above earth's lamentation
It sounds and echoes in my soul;
How can I keep from singing?

So, besides tipping my hat to my parents, the point of this is that one can, I believe, be Catholic AND believe in social justice, desiring an end to war, poverty, racism, sexism, classism, and the other ills of the world. These are not intellectually inconsistent concepts; there is no cognitive dissonance to be reconciled, and I know, because I was raised with people that lived their lives according to these principles.

And yet, my parish, that embodies these Catholic values deeply -- many of the parishioners are the social justice leaders and activists in the St. Louis community -- is under the gun from the archdiocese.

Through all the tumult and the strife,
I hear that music ringing;
It sounds and echoes in my soul;
How can I keep from singing?

What though the tempest 'round me roar,
I hear the truth it liveth.
What though the darkness 'round me close,
Songs in the night it giveth.

Thomas Aquinas, now recognized as a Church father, was condemned multiple times by the Archbishop of Paris. But who remembers him, that enforcer of institutional dominion?

When tyrants tremble, sick with fear,
And hear their death knells ringing;
When friends rejoice both far and near,
How can I keep from singing?

I, personally, am not that vested in any of the battles. I think Brian and I are more just looking for a place to pray, for our faith to grow, and we like that we're surrounded by people that are making the world a better place. Not that we claim such laud; it's the people around us that are so active. But we like it, we really value it.

It's not the walls, it's the people; it's not the bricks and mortar, it's the spirit. I know that. But, really? To come under fire for believing Jesus invited everyone to his table, by the alleged keepers of that very faith? I may be missing something here, not being a biblical scholar and all, but I'm going to step out on a limb and say there's a disconnect there.

Bla bla bla - I'm just talking, talking. Do the words mean anything?

The peace of Christ makes fresh my heart,
A fountain ever springing.
All things are mine since I am his;
How can I keep from singing?

No storm can shake my in-most calm,
While to that rock I'm clinging.
Since Love is Lord of heaven and earth,
How can I keep from singing?

My dad used to say, you can't preach to an empty stomach. I think he meant it literally (like you need to feed and clothe people first, then start teaching them something, anything, or they won't be able to listen, even if they wanted to). But I think it can also have some metaphorical application - do we not need nourishment, encouragement, assistance, cheer, hope, incentives, from our spiritual leaders? I do not look to Lindell to fill the cupboards in my kitchen, but, to the extent it is involved in my life at all, I would expect a positive spiritual force, not a recriminating one, not a distressful one. But who am I kidding? In my lifetime, Lindell has always been Lindell and Lindell it will always be. But I am Catholic and that cannot be taken from me - I couldn't keep from singing, even if I wanted to, which I don't. And what I've cited here is a Quaker hymn, attributed to Robert Lowry (1826-1899).

------------------ A poem ------------------

Wage Peace

Wage Peace with your breath.

Breathe in firemen and rubble.
Breathe out whole buildings and flocks of red-wing blackbirds.
Breathe in terrorists
Breathe out sleeping children and fresh mown fields.
Breathe in confusion and breathe out maple trees.
Breathe in the fallen and breathe out life long relationships intact.

Wage peace with our listening; hearing sirens, pray loud.

Remember your tools: flower seeds, clothing pins, clean rivers.

Make soup.

Play music; learn the word "thank you" in 3 languages.
Learn to knit: make a hat.
Think of chaos as dancing raspberries.

Imagine grief
as the outbreak of beauty or gesture of fish.

Swim for the other side.
Wage peace.
Never has the word seemed so fresh and precious.
Have a cup of tea and rejoice.
Act as if armistice has already arrived.
Celebrate today.

Judyth Hill
12 September 2001